


Happiness

by Sjukdom



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dark, Drabble, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where did Oswald go, when he declared himself the king of Gotham?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so feel free to tell me about any mistakes :) The lines for the epigraph was taken from Tiamat's song "Cold Seed".

_All I asked for was a little love  
But from my hands flew the maiden dove_

Oswald didn't remember clearly how he got there: it was a long and painful walk along the dark streets under the pouring rain, with his bad leg shot and blood flowing down it. Each step hurt like hell and after him he left a trail of crimson drops, which mixed with the water from the skies. Or, maybe, down poured also blood, all of the blood spilled tonight, when he became the king of Gotham. Oswald walked, limping badly, a wide grin on his face, screams of joy pulsating in his throat. Wet clothes stuck all over his body like the second skin, his hair hung lifelessly like dead seaweeds. He went in no particular direction, driven by the excitement and the sense of victory. He recovered only after he saw the familiar outlines of Jim's house – big and dark, built from the half-ruined bricks, with tags on every visible surface – which had nothing in comparison with his previous luxurious apartments. Oswald laughed out loud – of course, where else should he have gone? What for, if not to share his success with his old friend? 

He went up the stairs to Jim's flat, stumbling with each step, the gunshot wound burning, and ended up crawling, smudging the dirt on the floor with wet hands. The lock in the door was weak and after a few pushes Oswald broke it and entered the flat on all fours, dragging his wounded leg after him. The flat, obviously, was empty, rather neat and low-key, with little furniture and bare walls. Oswald got up slowly, wincing with pain, and limped into the bedroom with narrow bed and a small chest. He collapsed on the bed, catching his breath, than settled more comfortably, laying on his stomach, his head on Jim's pillow. Oswald buried his face in it, inhaling its smell, trying to remember if Jim smelled the same. He began to shiver, freezing in his clothes, soaked with cold water, and pulled the blanket over him. It was quiet in the flat, not even the clock's ticking to break the silence.

Excitement began to settle down and Oswald regretted that Jim wasn't here right now. It would be nice if he would have sat beside him, sharing his warmth with Oswald, cradling his head on his knees and stroking his wet hair lightly. Or maybe he would have laid near him, wrapping his arms around him, his breathing tickling Oswald's neck, his body relaxed for now. Just friends, resting together, ready for the challenges of another day. Or more than friends?

What would it be like to be kissed on the back of the head and neck? Jim would have turned him so he faced him, leaving butterfly kisses on Oswald's nose and cheeks before kissing him for real, pressing his lips tightly to his own. Oswald smiled happily, thinking about this, his eyes half-closed. Jim would never hurt him, he would lay beside him, whispering something softly, meaningless tender words, palming his aching body until Oswald would be overwhelmed with another sensations, way more pleasant, just like the power itself... Oswald had never studied his body properly, so he would entrust it to more experienced Jim – to find his most sensitive spots, to touch him with his fingers and tongue, everywhere he would reach. Oswald deserved only the kingly treatment now, when he was a king!

He started to fall asleep, more delightful images sliding across his weary mind. Oswald curled under the blanket, forgetting temporary his sore leg, his exhaustion and the reality itself. In his imagination Jim covered his hips with kisses, cherishing his feet, before spreading his legs wide and watching his cock twitch, pending for pleasure. Jim wrapped the fingers of both hands around it, squeezing it slightly before he began to stroke it, faster and stronger with each moment. The flat was no more silent, the lust speaking with their voices, loud and shameless – a song in honor of his coronation! Long live the king!

Oswald jerked lightly in his sleep, moaning softly into the pillow. In his dreams he saw the next morning, when Jim would come back and he would open his eyes to see him standing near, so near he would be able to reach Jim with his hand and wake up for the first time in his new life.

Wake up happy.


End file.
